Almost Human
by Rineai
Summary: about the series Prowlers by Christopher Golden: What if you were half human...and half Prowler? This is the story of Clair Walker: almost human.
1. Chapter 1

_All characters and themes of__ Prowlers__ are property of Christopher Golden._

Almost Human

Chapter One

_What if finding your past was more unreachable than seeing your future?  What if you were a stranger to everyone: your friends, your mother, your father…yourself?  What if your worst enemy was your own identity?_

My whole life, I've lived a lie.  My mother's lied to me since birth.  My father doesn't know I exist, and I'm not even sure he exists.  I have no siblings, no real friends.  My sheer existence has no logic. 

Clair Walker: living paradox.

Clair closed her eyes.  High school is so trivial, she thought as she began to dose.  Just a junior, she'd already been to 5 different high schools.  Claire had been home schooled until 9th grade, and she had liked it that way.  But she "needed to be with other kids," as her mother had said.  And since she was now almost under control…she didn't have much of a choice.

"Walker, how about you?"

"Huh?"  Claire peeled her eyelids apart and looked at her teacher.  Mr. Sakine had been teaching AP Bio forever, apparently, but didn't look a day older than 200. 

"I was wondering," the tiny man croaked, "if you knew the answer.  But as you don't seem to be awake, I'm guessing that's a negative."

"Can you repeat the question?"  Claire asked nonchalantly, glancing at her messy, unpainted fingernails with bored eyes. 

"Oh I can, yes.  But the question is, will I?"  Claire hadn't even noticed him moving in, but he was now practically standing on her toes and she was usually pretty sharp when it came to that kind of thing.  Her mind flash back to age 10, that summer when her mother took her to Maine to meet up with some family.  She had been reading when she was a humming bird flit by at what had seemed like 100 miles per hour.  Her mother was so mad that she hadn't seen it, especially since she had been looking in that direction.  Claire couldn't explain things like that; call it some animal instinct that usually passed over most human genes.  Then again, she didn't exactly have what one would call "normal genes."

The tiny teacher barely had to bend down to be eye level with the sitting student; nevertheless, he glared at her gray-green eyes as if he could take her in a battle any day.  Claire doubted if he could even take her in a battle of intelligence, and he had to have been around the proverbial block a few more times than she.  Claire bit her lip, trying to hold back the instinctive growl.  If there was one thing she despised, it was being itested/i and this old man was doing it in the most obnoxious way a teacher knows how: the grammar superiority. 

"Fine."  She stared back into his eyes.  They were oddly yellow-tinted, most likely from old age or years of smoking.   "Will you, please, restate the question?"

"My question is," he answered, leaning even more, "can a new species survive if it is a mix of two existing species?"

She took a deep breath, leaned towards the disintegrating man, and answered a simple,  "No."

"Ah," he said, withdrawing from the desk and turning away.  "And why, pray, can't they?"

"Because they weren't supposed to be born."  Claire released an almost inaudible snarl and turned in the direction of the voice.  Jared Philips.  Joy.  "How can a freak of nature survive?"

"Yes and no, Mr. Philips," Sakine said.  "Yes, they weren't supposed to be born; but no, they can survive just fine.  It's the species that can't survive.  And why is that Miss Walker?"

"Because they can't have offspring of their own."  Claire mumbled.  "Like a mule; a combination of a horse and a donkey.  The just aren't able to reproduce." 

Ring.  Hallelujah.  Claire stood up and took three long strides out the door before Mr. Sakine could get the words "see me after class" out of his mouth, before Jared could say something else to make her feel just so wanted, and before anyone could make her feel like crap, like…

The Freak of Nature she was.

Claire was fast.  Really fast.  But somehow Jared was able to catch up and stop her in the hallway before she could sneak to American History.  He was tall, dark haired, and had the brightest blue eyes imaginable.  Despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than bite the bastard's head off, he wasn't unattractive by any means.  His hand gripped her forearm stopping her brisk walk, and spun her around.  She had to admit that that was impressive.  Not many could do something like that to her, let alone want to.  Still, as awed as she was, she had to really try to suppress the harsh growl that rose up in her throat.

"What?" she spat at him.

"I need to talk to you."  His voice was less harsh than before.

Claire pretended to not be intrigued.  "Good for you.  I'll have my secretary set up an appointment.  How's two o'clock, the 30th of never, my office?"  She had kind of a nasty habit of being really sarcastic, even when she didn't particularly feel pissed off.  Call it a defense mechanism.

He narrowed his eyes.  It reminded her of herself when she gets angry.  "Just come with me.  You're smart.  You can miss one class."

Jared started to walk away, jerking his head in an indication that he intended for her to follow him.  Rolling her eyes, she slowly fell into step with him.  "Where are we going?" 

"Don't know yet."

She raised a blond eyebrow at him.  "Sorry, Jared, but I'm not going to be dragged to some dark alley somewhere."

He flashed her a cute half-smile.  "It was just a thought."

She tried in vain not to grin back.  "Fine.  But can we make it quick?  The bell's about to ring."  It did.  "Damn it.  Now I'm late."

"Don't worry about it," he patronized.  Jared looked through the window of a dark classroom's door.  "Perfect."  He pulled her into the classroom and even in the dark she could see that the walls were covered with inspirational posters featuring Garfield and Snoopy.  An ad for a poetry contest hung on the teacher's desk.  Claire tore it off and shoved it into the pocket of her green cargo pants.

Jared sat on the top of one of the desolate desks.  "So," he said, looking at Claire as if she were the one expected to speak.  Claire hated that.

"What?" she asked, becoming even more agitated.  "If this is all a ploy to get me to make out with you, you're out of luck, buddy."  There she was with the sarcasm again.

"Always the cynic one!"  Jared teased.  "And I don't see why.  I mean, if you wanted to show how much you hate me, you could always just rip my throat out.  And who said I even wanted to make out with-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Claire interrupted.  "What did you just say?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Walker," Jared countered.  "Sure you're hot, but there are plenty of nicer, hotter girls out there that I could make out with.  Why would I want you?"

"No.  What did you say before that?  Something about ripping your throat out.  Why would I do that?"  Good job, Claire thought, just come right out and tell him you're a freakish werewolf.  But all the same, Jared knew something about her…something she barely knew about herself. 

"What are you anyway?" Jared asked, dismissing her question.  Claire followed him with her eyes as he began to slowly circle her.  "I mean, you're not human, I can smell it, but you're not a prowler, either."  He sniffed the air.

Prowler…She rolled the word over in mouth before speaking it.  "Prowler…"  Something triggered in her mind, as if she'd her the term before.  What was he talking about?  How could he smell her differences?  What was he, some kind of dog?

Come to think of it…not too unlikely.

Jared let out a short, harsh laugh.  "Heh.  You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?" she asked, perplexed.  This is what she had wanted to know her whole life.  And here was this random guy, whom she didn't even like, about to explain it to her as if she were a three-year-old.  "What are you talking about?"  Claire's mind slipped back to all the childhood memories she had.  Losing control at a friend's birthday party when she was five… the girl nursing an injured arm, screaming bloody murder…and again at the supermarket when she was 7… attacking her mother's date when she was 4… being home-schooled until freshman year…all the reasons she was forced to leave the other 4 high schools…

…Never speaking of her father…ever.

Jared smiled, checked the windows, and then moved to the back of the classroom.  She started to follow, but he stopped her.  "Stay there."

And then she watched as his false human skin was torn from his body, fur and claws spouting where normal hands, legs, and torso used to be.  She could hear the familiar sounds of bones popping and lengthening, as his teeth grew sharper and his jaw extended.  She could even feel the savage tension floating through the room's stuffy air.

Claire stared, wide-eyed, at the beast in front of her, something she couldn't have imagined existed inside any other body but her own.  She didn't, couldn't hold back any longer.

She unleashed the monster, too.

_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_All characters and themes of Prowlers belongs to Christopher Golden_

Almost Human Chapter 2 

The two stood face to face, staring.  Claire's now wolf-like jaw dropped.  Jared's jowls curled into a primitive smile. 

"This is amazing!"  Claire said, probably a little bit too loudly.  "So, I'm not a complete freak?  There is actually someone like me…"

Jared shook his monstrous head, patronizing her once again  "Well, I would go _that _far.  You're still somewhat freakish, but yes, there are a lot of us out there."

Claire's head was spinning.  What did this mean…?  How had her whole world been altered so drastically in 5 minutes?  How many days of detention would she get for this?

But the questions weren't the only things making her dizzy.  For as long as she could remember, Claire had been able to mask the inner monster while in human form fairly easily, but outside of the false visage, she could barely stay sane for 2 minutes without attacking something or turning back.  She growled.  Jared's ears perked up at the change of atmosphere.  She hardly registered the thought of why he could stay so calm like this before she pounced at him. 

He met her mid-air and pinned her to the cold tile floor.  She got one good snap in before she forced herself to change back.  Jared followed her lead.

"What the Hell was that?!" his now-human form asked, shell-shocked from the assault. 

"Sorry.  I can't help it."  Then she added tentatively, "how do you stay so calm when you're…you know…like that?"

"I just…do.  I actually feel a lot more comfortable like that than cramped in this little body; don't you?"

With his body still pinning her to the ground, she couldn't help but think that it's not so little.  "No.  I can't control that body.  With this one, I can stay away from you (or anyone for that matter), but with that one, I have to attack something.  Plus, this one's at least normal.  That's just…scary."

"You have some Prowler Pride issues, you know that?"  Jared smiled.  Finally, he pushed himself off of her.  "If that's even what you are."

"I don't get it.  Why am I different from you?"  Claire asked. 

"I have no clue," Jared said.  Then he smiled, clearly proud of himself. "But I think you might be hybrid."

"What, like, half and half?"  Claire asked.  She laughed skeptically, but soon, it seemed to make a lot of sense.  "Well…I never knew my dad.  Maybe he's a Prowler."  Claire smiled suddenly.  "So that's what all that talk of half-breeds was in Bio.  I always knew there was something weird about that guy…"

"Yeah, he's one of us," Jared told her.  "Finally got you figured out, I guess.  My parents don't like him though.  I'm not sure why.  It's something about when they were in a pack together, _years_ ago.  I don't know."

"Pack?"  Claire asked, confused once again.  Like…wolves or something?"

"Yeah," Jared said.  "Most Prowlers hunt in packs.  Some, like us, just sort of stay independent, you know?  I've never been in a pack.  I don't even think I'd want to be in one.  Back in the 19th century or so, my parents were in one, but they were young and pretty low in the hierarchy.  I guess they didn't care too much, but then when their first kid was killed by one of their superiors for flirting with their chick or something, they left.  It's a brutal system.  I like being benevolent."  He stuck his chin in the air and gave her this cute little smile, like a little kid would do. 

Claire laughed.  "Sounds like it."

They were both sitting on the floor of the empty classroom.  They had never turned the lights on and it was pretty dark, not to mention cold, considering it was the end of November.  Claire shivered slightly. 

"Hey," Jared said, getting up from off the floor.  "You want to blow off the rest of the day and get out of here.  I'm getting kind of sick of this damn school."

"Okay."  Claire knew her mother would kill her for all the detentions she was going to get, but she had never met anyone like herself before. 

Jared gave her his hand to help him off the floor.  She had to admit, it was pretty classy of the jerk.  Maybe chivalry ain't dead among monsters, she thought.  

Bridgett's Irish Rose pub was always packed on a Friday night.  Kids on dates that wouldn't last until dessert, married couples, friends, loners, the infamous drunkards at the bar, and even the occasional Prowler.  Bill Cantwell was being harassed at his post of bar tender, as usual, but he didn't mind.  This life was good.  And he had lived so many of them, he had reason to think so.  Of all the names, occupations, lovers, and homes, this was by far the best.  He had a great job; granted, an often taxing job, but great.  He had friends.  And above all, he had family; a newly re-united niece, two kids that were just as good as his own, and…he had her.

Bill took a deep breath of restaurant-scented air and caught her sweet aroma as she bustled out of the kitchen, shouting directions at her brother and co-owner across the dinning floor.  Courtney Dwyer could bustle out of somewhere better than just about any cane user he'd ever seen.  And when it came to Bill, ever is a _very _long time.

Courtney smiled at him as she walked to the always busy bar area.  "Exhausted yet?" she teased. 

"Never!"  He flirted back, then added to the bar patrons, "so quit trying to make the impossible happen."

Courtney's still-youthful smile faltered slightly.  "I have some…new research."  She leaned in, transferring her weight from her lions-head cane onto the countertop.  Then she whispered, "Some new attacks have been reported in the city.  Downtown."

Bill shook his head in despair.  "I don't think this will ever end.  There are just too many of them."

"Maybe that's because the Underground is so scattered, there's nothing we can do."  Neither had noticed the arrival of Courtney's younger brother, Jack, until then.  "We should gather the others and stage a revolt against the packs," he said idealistically.

Not long ago, Jack and Courtney's lives had been quite a bit less complicated.  Not that it had been easy to raise her brother alone after the untimely death of their mother, but at least things were somewhat normal.  Then, their so-called normal lives took an un-natural turn when Jack's best friend, Artie, was brutally murdered by a Prowler of Owen Tanzer's pack.  Jack and Artie's bond had been so close, that even after his death, Artie had not been able to be separated.  Jack was soon granted the gift, or curse, of not only to see Artie and other ghosts, but to slip into the uncharted Ghostlands.  Since then, Jack and his friends had dedicated their lives to destroying the monsters that killed his best friend and countless others.  They had even succeeded in killing Owen Tanzer himself.

Prowlers were evil, monstrous and savage beasts.  Though they hid behind human facades, they were no more human than spiders.  At least, most of the one's he had met.  There were, just as there are in any species, an evil _and _a good side.  Jack hadn't met many, but he knew a few decent Prowlers.  Bill, for instance.  Jack had known Bill Cantwell for years before he found out about his wild side.  Or his somewhat royal heritage, for that matter.  Among the Prowlers, he was known as Guillaume Navarre, son of Yves Navarre, the greatest Alpha of any pack the world had ever known.  He had preceded Owen Tanzer's father, Wade.  In the Prowler world, this made Bill a king.

And then there were the others of the Underground, those Prowlers who escaped pack-life.  Bill's niece, Olivia, was a "good guy," as well as most of her friends.

But they still needed to deal with the bad guys.

"It can't be done," Bill told him.  "We've discussed this.  Most of the Undergrounders just want to live normal lives.  We won't be able to pry them away; it isn't fair."

Jack sighed.  "I know.  But there has to be some that would help."

"I think we are better off just doing what we're doing."

"Just following random attacks and taking out random packs?"  Jack asked, his voice rising a little too loud.  Then in a lower tone he added, "it's so miniscule.  They're everywhere!"

"Jack, we know," Courtney put in, sighing slightly.  Jack and Bill suddenly realized how tired she was.  If anyone could mask weariness, it was Courtney Dwyer.  "But there's nothing to be done.  Except your work, of course." 

Jack smiled and left the bar.  She was right.  There were at least 4 other waiters working his tables for him at the moment, and he knew they would kill him for it later.  Especially his girlfriend, Molly, who was currently being hassled at table 5.

It felt good to finally be out of the overly large brick building packed with too many kids.  Jared led Claire down the paved walkway towards his car.  If there was one thing in his life he was proud of, it was that black 1967 Cadillac convertible.  He had saved every penny he'd gotten since he was 12 for that car, and frankly, it wasn't easy to give up his daily Twix bar, though he did lose a little weight.  It was his baby, his love, his soul mate, and his best friend.  His Stella, as he lovingly referred to it.  He'd had to have it since that day a year ago when he'd first laid eyes on that beautiful, beautiful "for sale" sign in her back window while walking through the parking lot of the Barnes and Noble he worked in.  

"Where are we going?"  Claire asked, walking in step with him.

"Anywhere but here."

They just drove around for a while before ending up in a Starbucks for lack of a better location.  Jared wasn't too thrilled about all the fancy drinks, but Claire told him she needed the caffeine, so he settled.

Chocolate Brownie Frappaccino, Caramel Machioto, Tazo Chai latte; why can't they just have a damn cup of regular coffee and why the hell is everything so expensive? Jared wondered as he stared at the menu above the counter.  He finally ordered a cup of French roast coffee that tasted strangely burnt and way too weak, and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner. Claire stared at him, drinking her Vanilla Crème Frap and laughing quietly as he winced at the taste of his own beverage.  "S'not funny," he said, glaring back. 

"Okay, okay," she retorted.  "So…"

"Yes." 

"Uh-huh."  The conversation had taken a rather exciting turn. 

"So…how's life?"  Jared asked with a smile.

"Oh, wonderful, thanks.  You know, I just found out I'm only half a person and everything.  Just peachy."

Jared forced a laugh for politeness' sake.  "You're not half a person.  Just, half a species.  I don't know.  I'm sure that there are a million others, but you don't really hear about them everyday.  I guess they try to blend."

"Yeah…  " Claire responded, distracted by her own thoughts as usually.  She sat up in her chair across from Jared's and leaned forward slightly.  "This is so strange.  Yesterday I was just freakish-wolf-girl and now there's this whole other species no one's ever heard of and I'm part of it.  It's just…weird."  She shrugged and rested her chin on her hands, elbows balanced on knees.

"Have you ever tried to contact you father?"  The question had hung in the air like a overflowing piñata, but it had caught Claire by surprise nonetheless. 

"No."

"Ever think about it?"

"I used to.  Not any more.  I just…gave up."  She leaned back in the squashy chair and glanced and a middle-aged suit typing apathetically on a brand new laptop dell.  She noticed the way the glow of the screen, even while dulled from the harsh lights of the café, cast a ghastly like upon the man.  She could see him.  He was unhappy and alone, although he made a ton a year and probably had a few kids at home whom he never saw.  Isolated from the world as she was, she pitied the guy.  He had chosen is own path, while she had not.   

"I think you should."  Jared took another swig of the rancid coffee and put it down on the chessboard table.  She was shaken from her thoughts and glanced back at his dark eyes, staring intently at her.  "I mean, he could tell you stuff, right?"

Claire scrunched up her nose for a second.  "Nothing you couldn't tell me."

Jared smiled.  "I guess so."  He sipped at the cooling coffee again.  "So who is this guy, anyway?"

"My father?"  Jared couldn't help but notice the way her eyes wandered from him when they were having a conversation, the way most girls he knew did.  He hated when girls did that; it was like they weren't paying attention.  Though, he didn't mind today.  He supposed that she was paying more attention that the other girls, in her own way.  Besides, she had a lot on her mind right now.     

Claire shrugged.  "His name's Bill Cantwell.  He used to play football.  He lives in Boston now, I think."  She shrugged again.  He also could tell she had a habit of that.  "I pretty sure he doesn't know I exist."  Her eyes shifted to the side again.  Jared could almost see the thoughts etched across her frowning face.  Confusion covered in a think blanket of sadness.

Jared's eyebrows furrowed as he watched her.  Then it occurred to him: _Bill Cantwell…_  "Wait a second.  I definitely have heard that name."

"Really?"  Claire turned to him leaned forward once more.  "How?"

Jared thought for a second before it came to him. 

"He was a football player," she repeated hopefully, "maybe you—"

"No," he interrupted.  "That's not it.  My parents still keep in touch with this one brother of mine that joined a pack a while back—I've never met the guy—and he keeps us up to date on what's going on above ground—"

"Huh?"  Claire tilted her head to the side in curiosity.  Jared grinned.  The pup in her had risen to the surface with the simple gesture.  She was unmistakably a young Prowler, and it intrigued him.

"What?" he said to cover his tangent thoughts.

"Above ground?"

"Oh,"  Jared started again.  "We—you and me and all the other non-pack Prowlers—are part of the 'Underground.'  We lay low.  We don't hunt.  Anywho, he tells us all kinds of things about the people my parents used to know; you know, their new names and stuff.  And this Bill Cantwell?  He's really Gillaume Navarre."  His grin widened and he looked at her as if he were divulging a huge slice of gossip.

Claire blinked a few times.  "Jared," she said.  "I'm new at this.  That name—Gie?—"

"Gillaume Navarre."

"Right, Gillaume Navarre.  That means nothing to me."

O yeah.  He had forgotten.  He paused a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Well, his father was once a big hot-shot pack leader.  So, he and you, I guess, are sort of royalty, in a way."

Claire stared at the blinking curser of her email screen.  She really had no reason to be nervous but her heart was pounding in her chest.  Jared had somehow convinced her to contact her father and she had looked up his email address and location as soon as he'd driven her home.  But now, she didn't know what to say.  _Hi.  You don't know me but I'm your daughter_? 

She just couldn't do it.  Not like this.  Claire was alone and unhappy with her confusing life, and she didn't need it anymore complicated than it already was.  She sighed and turned off the computer.  She started to get up when her mother stormed into the room, anger playing on her face.

"Where were you?" she asked in a soft voice.  She was too quiet and that was never a good sign.  Claire's mother was the kind of person that the more angry she became, the quieter her tone.  "The school called and said that you hadn't been in any classes after 4th period.  You know the way things work; it's not like at home.  You can't just leave anytime you want."

"I know, Mom," she said, playing the innocent little girl act that hadn't worked in years.  Her mother knew better than anyone that Claire was far from innocent.  "But something happened; I had to leave.  It was important, believe me."

"_What _would be so important?"  She looked at Claire as if she didn't know her.

"I met someone, Mommy…someone like me."


	3. Chapter 3

_Prowlers__ is the property of Christopher Golden_

Almost Human 

Chapter 3

Jack Dwyer could hardly concentrate on driving.  There had to be another way of doing this.  He wanted more than anything to purge the world of these…_creatures…_ and he felt like he wasn't doing enough. 

He pulled into a parking spot outside of the Lotus Club.  If he needed help, he knew this was the best place to find it.  Jack took Molly's hand as they walked to the nightclub.  It was a strange place at night, but somehow, it looked even weirder in broad daylight.  Creepy, even.  Though, it had every right to appear so, considering what it really was.  He knocked on the door and waited for the some big bouncer to open the door. 

Finally, a Prowler they had never seen before opened the door for them and glared down at the two humans standing on the sidewalk.  He took what would look like a conceded sniff of the air to those who didn't know better and told them in a deep baritone voice, "I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place."

Molly smiled, trying desperately to cover up the fact that she was terrified of the huge man.  But she knew he could smell the fearful sweat that was beginning to spread on the back of her neck.  She had seen what these things can do, and no matter how many she killed in cold blood, they would always scare her.  "No," she flirted, "I think we're right where we want to be."

Jack jumped in to the conversation when he saw the bouncer narrow his eyes at his girlfriend.  "You see," he said, whipping an Internet printout from his pocket and showing it to him, "we've come to visit a few friends.  We need some advice about our mutual enemies."

The bouncer took the paper from Jack, read the first few lines, and handed it back.  "Wait here," he instructed.

Molly and Jack exhaled the nervous breath they were both holding as they watched him walk away.  Despite his apprehension, Jack couldn't help but smile while he watched Molly's long curls of unruly red hair swept up in a light breeze.  As selfish as he knew the thought was, he was glad she hadn't taken the scholarship she had been awarded and stayed with them for another year or so.  He squeezed her hand.  Their relationship had taken a somewhat bumpy start, considering she was the former girlfriend of Jack's deceased best friend, but they were together now, and Artie's apparition not only recognized the fact, but also had pushed Jack to do something about his feelings for her.  For that, Jack was eternally grateful to Artie.

The door of the Lotus opened again, and the bouncer unhappily ushered them inside and down a flight of stairs where the main room of the club was almost empty.   Molly looked around for anyone she recognized, but found no one.  Still holding onto Jacks hand, she walked with him over to a booth where an old Prowler sat alone, drinking from a tumbler of some brownish liquor. 

"This was Winter's booth," Jack whispered to her as the approached.  She knew of whom he was speaking.  Winter had been a diplomat of the Underground and had helped them take down Jasmine, the vengeful mate of Owen Tanzer.  It was from he that Molly and Jack had learned of the Underground.  But sadly, Winter had been killed by the very female he had helped them destroy, just minutes before her downfall.

Jack cleared his throat in an effort to get the stranger's attention.  He looked up from his drink slowly, reluctantly even.  "Can I help you?" he asked.  His voice was tired and raspy.  He obviously wanted to be alone. 

Jack put down the paper and extended his now-free left hand to the Prowler in Winter's booth.  He reached out, but not to complete the handshake Jack had offered.  He picked up the paper and read it to himself while Jack awkwardly put down his hand.  "Hmph.  What is this you are showing me?"

"We need some help," Jack told him, his patience beginning to ware thin.  "My name's Jack Dwyer and this is Molly Hatcher.  We want to stop these things from happening again.  Do you know someone that would help us find this pack?"

The old Prowler looked up again, this time studying their faces meticulously.  "So _this _is the famous Jack Dwyer.  Funny; you don't look so strong or valiant.  The way I've heard talk, you should be 7 feet tall with bulging muscles, wearing a toga and golden sandals. So _this _is who they call Jack the Giant Killer."

He indicated that Jack and Molly sit down.  Jack could feel his face turn red despite the fact that he had previously heard that nickname several times.   It felt strange being referred to the same way a legend would.  Though he just wanted to keep people safe, he disliked the light fame that came with such a roll as his.  He knew that he _was _a celebrity among Prowlers, and whether he was hated or liked he was for his deeds didn't matter.  And despite himself, somewhere inside him, the child that always wanted to be a cowboy was smiling at the hero's title.

"The name's Kadri," the weary voice told them.  "I was once a pack leader, but my time has passed.  I wished to stay underground for a while; keep a low profile.  But those days were numbered few.  I have found my calling as profit to those in search of answers.  You have come to a very advantageous spot, my new friends."

They watched as Kadri smiled for the first time in their presence.  He read through the paper once more and stated, "I don't know who did this.  I have not heard of a pack in Boston since you defeated Owen Tanzer.  I usually hear of all new packs in my area.  Peculiar.  However, this may be an individual, or something of the sort.  I shall keep my eyes out for and signs of new activity."  Kadri made a strange, almost guttural hum as he handed them the paper.  "I'm finished speaking to you.  You may go now."

Rudely dismissed, Molly followed Jack out of the Lotus on Kadri's command.  She didn't feel as if they had gotten very much accomplished, but it was comforting to know that there was somewhere for them to go if they sought answers.  It was comforting to find that someone had replaced Winter's imperative role in the Underground.

Claire slunk into Bio the next morning as close to the bell as possible.  However, there really was no point, considering the very person she wished to avoid wasn't there.  She was in no mood to explain why she chose not to email her father, nor was she in the mood to be pushed to do so.

Mr. Sakine made his entrance just as the bell signaled the start of 4th period.  He sat down at his desk and started the class like every other day.  "Take out you notebooks and write down the homework," he commanded.  Then he read from his ledger, "page 234 in your textbooks, #1-20."  He looked at Samuel Harrison, known by all to forget his assignments.  "And don't forget to read the previous chapter because there may or may not be a quiz this week."

As he was talking, Jared slipped into the room and sat down in his usual seat one row over and one seat behind Claire.  She tried not to look, but she snuck a glace over her shoulder and he flashed her a lopsided smile.  She turned around quickly.  Why was she so cautious?  It wasn't like he would kill her if she didn't call the man.  She made a silent pact to grab him as her lab partner. 

Sakine was still talking when she resurfaced her attention.  "…Use the data tables to make the graph and be sure to use every bit of information.  Get a lab partner and get to work.  You'll hand the lab in tomorrow, or you won't hand it in at all."

_Shit…_ Claire thought as she watched Jared walk to a lab table with Lee Jameson.  She jumped up and followed them to he back of the classroom.  "Lee, do you mind if I steal Jared for this lab?"  Claire asked, flirting to the best of her ability (which wasn't much).  "You know, I really never can do graphs correctly."

Lee smirked, practically laughing in her face.  "Actually, I do.  You're in AP.  You obviously know how to do graphs, if you passed the entrance test."  He turned his back to her and sat down.

"I'm not sure how much those tests accomplish.," she retorted.  "You got in, didn't you?"

Claire rolled her eyes and glanced up at Jared.  She could tell he understood.  _No problem, _his eyes told her silently.  "Hey, Lee," he voiced,  "I think I'll help her out this once."

Lee shot Jared the same superior leer as he had given Claire.  "Whatever, man."

_Stupid jerk, _Claire screamed at Lee wordlessly while she pulled Jared to a table across the room.

"What's up?" Jared asked when he finally felt his friend's eyes leave him.   

"How could you be friends with that jackass?" she asked angrily, forgetting completely that that was exactly the way she had thought of Jared just the day before. 

"He's not that bad," Jared assured her.  Her temporary amnesia seemed to be wearing off…  "He just doesn't know you.  You do give off a sort of antisocial glow, if you must know.  But really, what's going on?  Did you find anything about your dad?"

"Um," Claire started.  "Well, I kind of did, I guess.  I got an address and email address.  But I didn't send him anything.  It didn't feel right.  What's the big deal, anyway?  I'm happy not knowing him.  What if he's a jerk?  And why have you taken such an interest in me?  You hated me before yesterday."

"I didn't hate you," he answered.  "I just didn't know you."

Claire raised an eyebrow at the young Prowler next to her.  "What, are all of you '_popular_' assholes to people you don't know?  Wow, TV portrays you guys quite accurately."

"No," Jared said, shaking his head.  "That's not what I meant.  It's that whole 'I'm a bitch, don't mess with me' attitude.  Anyway, I just think that you should talk to your father.  This whole half-breed thing kind of fascinates me, to tell the truth."

"Oh, wonderful," Claire said, voice dripping with sarcasm as usual.  "So now I'm your research project?"

"No, no."  Jared looked sincerely sorry.  He sighed and looked down at the table for a moment.  Then he turned his face to hers again.  "God, Claire, everything I say to you comes out wrong.  I'm sorry.  You don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to.  I'm being selfish and just wanted to meet this Navarre guy; see what's so great about him.  At first it was curiosity about you and now it's about him.  Every Alpha in the country wants him as their Beta, and I wanted to know why.  I'm sorry, Claire.  I'll just leave you alone now."  He picked up his pencil and began to sketch a graph from the data he had collected the day before.

"No, Jared," Claire said to the side of is face.  I don't want you to leave me alone because I'll be just that: alone.  You're the only one I know who remotely understands me.  Discounting Mr. Decrepit Science Guru over there," she nodded towards their non-human teacher.  "I just don't want to be a specimen."

"You're not, Claire, I promise."  He looked up at her again.

"Then I'll do it.  I'll find him.  But not with an email or letter.  I want to meet him face to face."


End file.
